The Longest Day
by shabbytiger
Summary: Set post Queen Of Hearts. Gwen makes a gesture...and Arthur accepts her invitation.  Warning for mature content in later chapters...  Reviews welcome!:
1. Chapter 1

TITLE: The Longest Day

Author: Shabbytiger

Show: Merlin

Pairing: Arthur and Gwen

Genre: Romance

Warnings: MA for adult content later...plus set after episode 3 x 10.

Disclaimer: Characters not mine, just borrowed for naughty purposes :P

Multi Chapter and Complete.

**! Okay it has been suggested (kindly so) that I could continue with more of this...exploring some of the threads I have begun. What do you think? Or should I write any more fics as one shots? Thoughts appreciated-good or bad!**

/

She was watching.

Arthur resisted the urge to scan the small crowd that gathered daily to watch the training, to crane his neck toward the castle and find her face peeking from a window. This was the next step in the dance they were engaged in, and it was as tortuous as it was delicious, and as with all things in Camelot, there were rules to be observed. His insides bubbled, recognising her on a visceral level, knowing she was near and the sure certainty was a thrill and a source of panic too. It was no longer the tender yearning of the early days that charged their meetings now, but a tight throbbing ache that made eyes scatter and skin burn. Christ, he blinked the need away, his sudden perspiration due to more than the sun beating down as he fought.

"Umph." The Knight in waiting he was sparring with caught the broad side of his sword in the chest, stumbling backwards on the grass to a murmur of excitement, his expression crestfallen but steadfast under Arthur's level gaze. The distraction was a blessing and Arthur clung to it, forcing himself to concentrate on his men through sheer force of will. The boy stared at him, chin raised but deferential, and it anchored Arthur to his duty, a life line he clutched at gratefully. A burst of pride in the younger man skirted Arthur's spine, too quickly eclipsed by the knowledge that Gwen had witnessed his skill on the field. He knew, though she was hidden from sight, that her dark eyes were following his every movement, and his skin strained beneath the weight of his armour. The temptation to seek out her face was a sharp lance in his side, but gritting his teeth, and proffering a hand to his opponent to help him find his feet, he forced his mind back to his work.

The daily training had intensified, the recruits pouring in from the nobility in the surrounding lands , as all looked to Camelot and its might to solve the issue of Cenred. They may not offer armies, Arthur thought cynically, but they offered up their sons, eager for bragging rights during the battles, not so eager for the cost of war. Shaking off such thoughts, he glanced at his charges, noting the weariness in their stances, and as though connected to each of them as he stood tall before his fathers castle, felt as bone tired as he ever had. Momentarily, his head dropped, as the weight of expectation, of success, threatened to crush him. He closed his eyes, hoping to quell the fleeting weakness. But the moment dragged, and he heard a cough, the awkward shuffling of nervous feet. Still his eyes remained closed, as if opening them would see the weight fall, smash him to the ground like the dead he saw in his sleep.

Usually he would snap the moment before it caught hold, bark at Merlin, get a laugh from the men to disguise his secrets. But Merlin was at his mothers, Hunith having the dubious pleasure of Merlin's company whilst she recovered from a broken ankle. Arthur's lungs seemed to forget their function as time crawled to a stop, and each whisper in the crowd, each rustle of chain mail scored his skin and stung sharp. The war he was fighting with his constant need for a love he could never have, a body he could never truly touch was the most challenging physical battle he had ever endured, and its toll was starting to tell, allowing deeper issues, self doubt, to burrow deep and settle. His lungs remained locked, and his eyes tight against the world, as he fought for control.

Then her scent was filling him up, the light lilac soap she bathed with kissing his skin, cooling the heat that scorched him. He wanted to curse at his own treachery as his imagination betrayed him, the fresh flowers in her hair so sweet and intoxicating that his lungs pumped again, dragging the aroma inside, allowing him to breathe.

" Sire." Now her voice was a spirit in his ears, that low sensuous tone scraping his thoughts as she whispered so close that if he moved, just slightly, he was positive her lips would brush his hair. Christ. His eyes snapped open as self preservation finally thundered into action, aware that he was losing it before his men, in front of the people he strove constantly to prove himself worthy of leading. Enough, he told himself. Enough now.

" What on earth are you waiting for?" He curled his lip, raising his eyebrows at the puzzled faces staring back at him. " Do you ladies require engraved invitations? Pair up and spar for heavens sake, honestly." He could manage scornful derision, so lay it on in spades. The men didn't need to like him, he resolved, as he caught a few looks from Sir Leon that made his hackles rise. They just had to listen. And learn enough not to become another casualty that kept him awake at nights, when dreams of her escaped him.

" Do you have a burning desire to see your innards on your enemies sword Percival?" The youngster shook his head, wisely keeping silent. If he heard Sire from anyone but...well it was a smart move on the boys part. Arthur stomped towards the boy, temper fraying, fraying, gone.

" Then keep your arms up, and use your bloody feet, make yourself a moving target. Go on. Again."

The training lasted an hour longer than usual. But no one complained.

/

Gwen chewed her lip, concern deepening her chocolate coloured eyes to pools of mahogany. Morgana frowned at her maid, perplexed, and also increasingly annoyed by the distracted behaviour Gwen had been displaying lately. It didn't help that she had her suspicions about what may be the cause of it. Biting her tongue, and swallowing the anger that the thought inspired, she smiled, bright and false at her hand maiden, and placed a hand on Gwen's arm.

" Gwen? Are you even in the same room as me today?" A light laugh, that once would have been warm, and affectionate, and now rang hollow, even to her own ears. Morgana knew that the cold edge to their once easy friendship confused Gwen, and at times, the hurt she saw fleetingly in her one time confidante's eyes was a wind howling through her ribs, rattling her foundations. Her new found purpose. That Gwen could cause such doubt, infuriated her beyond reason.

" Forgive me my lady." Still, after all these years with the ceremony. Morgana wanted to shake the dignity and propriety right out of her servant, despairing that Gwen may remind her of what was good in Camelot, but also of what was wrong. " I believe it was the red dress you were considering for the banquet this evening?"

Morgana nodded, her throat tight as she saw the sheen of tears in Gwen's eyes. Once she would have asked until she had wrung a confession from the girl. Demanded to know what troubled her. Merlin could worry now, she thought pettily, flushing at the childish spite churning within. Morgause had been clear about what to expect on returning to Camelot after witnessing the reality of Uthers genocide of her people, and Morgana had fully expected to find the adjustment hard. She had not expected to find Gwen and Merlin tucked in corners gossiping about the latest servant scandal as she and Gwen had once done. She had not expected to catch Arthur and Merlin discussing tactics before a tournament, as she and Arthur used to do, as she teased that she could win each damn honour if only Uther would let her fight. She had not expected to be stung so, when Arthur's eyes softened when looking Gwen when he thought no one was watching, or to feel so bitter at the secret smiles Gwen bestowed upon him when their paths crossed in the castle corridors.

She had returned to be the outsider in enemy territory, and the cause she fought for was one that gave her purpose, but in her heart, she had not been prepared to be the outsider, and the three people she had missed most whilst discovering herself, had betrayed her by moving on. Leaving her behind. Sometimes the rage it instilled almost swamped the hate she held for Uther, and the challenge of maintaining appearances was growing daily. At least with Merlin, the element of suspicion, and the dark secret of her kidnapping kept her feeling visible. Relevant. Whilst he was away, she had no one to spar with, and it surprised her to realise that she missed him. The man who would have killed her for Camelot. The emptiness in her chest ached, and she could stand it no more.

" Gwen, I have a headache. Be a dear and fetch my sleeping tonic from Gaius would you? I should rest before the evening's festivities." And then, because she hurt and wanted somebody else to:" Being paraded around on Arthur's arm all night as his trophy is positively exhausting." Gwen's lips pressed tight, and she curtsied, dipping her dark curls.

" Of-course milady. I'll go at once. I am sorry I did not notice your fatigue earlier."

So righteous, Morgana thought, as Gwen dashed from the room in a could of skirts and lilac scent. We are strangers now. As the sad truth occurred to her, she sat back on her bed. the headache no longer a fiction.

/

" You seem troubled my dear. Is everything all right?" Gaius peered at Gwen above his spectacles, and Gwen smiled nervously.

" I'm fine Gaius. Thank you for asking." Her attempts at normalcy were failing appallingly today she thought, annoyed at her lack of discipline. Glancing about the familiar room, with its bottles and potions, and Merlin's door a little ajar, she sighed a little, and turned to the physician, smiling warmly.

" Have you any word from Merlin? I do hope his mother is doing well." Gaius raised an eyebrow at her, but allowed the change in topic to pass.

" Oh I am sure Merlin and his mother are fine." A twinkle in his pale eyes. " Merlin is a far more capable boy than most give him credit for. Myself included." Gwen's smile reached her eyes, and she grinned, twirling on the older man teasingly.

" Missing him too Gaius?" He simply blinked at her as he turned to fetch Morgana's potion. " It's strange, but I never realised quite how much I relied on my chats with Merlin until now. A fortnight has passed and I feel as though I have ahead full of things I need to tell him." Gaius glanced back over his shoulder, his hair a wild tangle, and his creased familiar face was comforting. Passing her the potion, he held her hands for a moment, his palm gloves rough and warm. " Merlin has a way of lightening others burdens. Its a gift of a sort." In a conspiratorial whisper, " though I would never admit so out loud of-course. His mopping skills are still dreadful."

Gwen squeezed his hands, grateful suddenly for Gaius and his kind words. Some days when the loss of her father yawned inside her, stretching itself into every bone and muscle, he would appear, with a gentle hand at her shoulder, or a task that sent her beyond the castle, to the woods where her tears would be privately spent, as she collected his odd provisions.

" You know, I miss Merlin, of course," Gwen's habit of babbling when nervous, or faced with emotions that ran too deep was one she would never be divested of she thought, as the words ran on, " but I never realised how close he was to so many of the servants till now. Florentine almost cried when she asked how much longer he would be away earlier, and the librarian was looking for him too. And its ever so strange," a puzzled frown marred her forehead as she recalled the surreal moment, " but I am sure I heard Uther asking Arthur about him too. Isn't that odd? If I didn't know better, I'd think that Merlin had cast some sort of spell to make the whole of Camelot notice him in his absence." She didn't notice Gaius pause, and keep very still for long seconds as he listened, or hear the muffled curse from the elderly physician as she continued. " Perhaps we should all be a little nicer to him when he returns. Appreciate him when he is around to see it, rather than pine when he is not." She smiled, glad to have gotten that off her chest. It had been bothering her for a few days now, and as Merlin would have been who she had shared such musings with, it seemed fitting to share with Gaius in his stead. She smiled brightly and waved the potion in her hand.

" Well I had better see that Morgana gets this quickly, so she has time to rest before this evenings banquet." The thought of getting through the evening alone, without Merlin and his catty remarks about the dignitaries and Knights made her curl her toes. Being so close to Arthur all evening was going to be a challenge. Her skin grew warm at the thought of him, seeing him easily, the golden haired ghost that haunted her waking moments when her head refused to give her peace. Serving the evening meal, a task that she shared with Merlin usually, was becoming a nightly torture, their eyes clashing, skin humming, and she wondered if he were as affected as she. Wondered if he carried those looks, and sometimes, those briefest of touches of hands over serving plates, to bed as she did. Where they continued to tease and taunt her, making the idea of sleep a mockery. With Morgana watching from those new cold eyes that held secrets that Gwen refused to examine too closely, each meal was fraught with tension of some kind. Her nerves were stretched beyond endurance.

" Gwen? Was there something else?" Gaius caught her elbow, and Gwen looked up, surprised and mortified to have lost her composure so completely. Colour flooded her face as she read his expression, the sympathy, and curiosity plain. Good grief, she had to pull herself together before tonight. Shaking her head, lips firmly closed in a tight smile, she span away and left, before she gave herself away further.


	2. Chapter 2

TITLE: The Longest Day

Author: Shabbytiger

Show: Merlin

Pairing: Arthur and Gwen

Genre: Romance

Warnings: MA for adult content later...plus set after episode 3 x 10.

Disclaimer: Characters not mine, just borrowed for naughty purposes :P

Multi Chapter and Complete.

/

The banquet was a feast of food, noise and colour. Arthur hated every minute ticking slowly by, as he sat next to his father, whose mead intake was bordering on lethal. Morgana was quiet, but behaving oddly, glancing at him strangely and demanding dance after dance though she usually refrained from them. The effort to smile and dance weighed heavier than the golden band that seemed to squeeze his head like a vice. It all just washed over him, and he was disconnected like he never had been before. Exchanging banter with the Knights was a chore, the food was tasteless, and Gwen was a spirit on the edge of his vision all evening, each glimpse of her hair, or skirts, or smile only serving to make him wish the night over so he could return to his chamber and deal with the growing ache she inspired. He shifted in his seat uncomfortably, feeling adrift. Gwen refused to meet his eyes tonight, and he found that bothered him. A lot. Trying to catch her eye was akin to catching snowflakes in a net. Impossible.

" Drink up Arthur." Uther slapped him on the back, causing him to choke on the mead he was sipping. Uther was a loud drunk. " Why so sombre boy? This is a celebration! We're celebrating...uh.." A glazed look and Uther grinned, laughing wildly. " Life! That's it. We're celebrating life boy." Arthur forced a smile, raising his glass at his father, cringing inside. Life? Lord, was his father blind? Every day bought fresh reports from the outlying lands that Cenred and his rogue army were growing bolder. And more violent. A cold thought then, as he pictured Merlin's village, under attack once more. Worse, that Merlin would be recognised, since the adventure to save Elyan. The idea that another person that he cared about may still be threatened was yet one more unravelling thread he could no longer manage. He ran a weary hand over his face, wishing Merlin back at Camelot. As infuriating as the idiot could be, he was a comfort too, with his cheek, and nuggets of wisdom that seemed too prescient for all his innocent what me bravado. Tired suddenly, he downed his drink, and turned to make his excuses to his father.

Gwen stood behind the table, her heart in her mouth as she strove to keep her expression neutral. All night she had hovered at the edges of the crowd, trying to hide. Watching Arthur from a distance. His melancholy was almost palpable however, and although having Uther so close made her stomach twist with fear, she simply couldn't leave without offering some support for the prince. As much as she missed Merlin, it had occurred to her that Arthur too may be feeling his loss. He turned so quickly, she had no time to school her features, and when his eyes widened, she knew that similar shock registered in her own. The moment was raw, a pulsing tangible slice of time that hit her hard. She had struggled to keep away, to avoid his eyes, and had watched him during training, witnessing his temporary loss of control. All the concern she had felt flooded her now, and the urge to touch him, burnt her skin. She stepped backwards quickly, conscious of Uther, of Morgana, whose backs were to her, but whom could turn any second and witness the emotion she knew was writ large in her face. Stupid, she thought, spinning away to melt back into the crowd. She was so stupid, to risk an encounter so soon after...her thoughts failed her, as the memory of her arrest swamped her. It still kept her awake at nights, along with other things.

As she threaded her way through the crowd, hoping that her presence would not be missed, a hand caught her arm in a firm grip, and a voice, low and smooth scorched her ear.

" Outside. Now." The tone was authoritative, but she heard the plea too, and it turned her to liquid. Keeping her head forward, nervous of discovery, she slipped her hand to that on her arm, and squeezed lightly. Her throat was too full for words to make it to the surface. His touch was lightning to her skin, and she only hoped that no one would notice her heightened colour as he released her arm and she wobbled a little, trying to focus on finding her way out. In her new gown, the rose bodice heaved and she felt as though her body were trying to escape it as she crossed the banquet hall. The skirts grazed her thighs as she hurried, and the truth of her reaction to Arthur was humbling as she throbbed deep inside for more than she should. Yet beneath her desire for his touch, was a tenderness, a need to sooth his anxiety, that she had seen so many times, laying just below his cool exterior these past few days. Gwen was used to hurt, used to disappointment in life, but bizarrely, as tough and capable as she considered Arthur to be, the need to take on his troubles was an ache in her chest that matched that between her thighs. A sharp powerful heat swept her, and as she nodded distractedly at the serving girls by the door, a decision somehow made itself. Arthur was hers, and she was his. Tonight she would express that mutual ownership, consequences be damned.

/

Arthur leant against a column in the corridor outside the banquet hall, grateful that his father had turned his attention to Morgana as he feigned off the evening, claiming an injury during training was giving him trouble. Lucky for Arthur that Uther would need attention for some hours, and that Morgana's keen eyes would be forced to watch on, and be the good girl he was coming to suspect she was anything but. That was a thorny topic that scattered his head, and he pushed it away as he waited for Gwen, hoping she would slip from the hall. The reality that she may ignore his request, especially since they had both acknowledged the ongoing danger such interludes posed, was a panicky jump in his chest, and he clenched and unclenched his fists as he waited. And waited. He was aware of every sound from the hall, every peal of laughter or raucous shout, and each time the doors opened, he glanced from his place behind the column, hope lifting his shoulders before dropping once more. The damn cloak he was forced to wear was dragging on his neck, and he tugged at it impatiently. She was not going to show. His heart was a stone in his chest, and frustration, physical and mental fired along his spine, his feet moving before he knew where he was going. Humiliation skimmed his cheeks, as he realised he had been lurking in the corridor like a love lorn puppy. Idiot. He stormed to his bedchamber, barking at the guards along the way to move, desperate to reach the sanctuary of his room to rid himself of the cloak and crown. The symbols of every reason he and Gwen could not be. He wanted to find her and yell at her, shake her, kiss her. Gods he wanted to crawl inside her and stay there, with a yearning so brutal it hurt.

Once in his room, he flung off the cloak, and the crown was discarded to the table, next to his breakfast dishes. On the tip of his tongue was a rebuke for Merlin, but he was not here, and Arthur had no idea which servant had been serving him today. Couldn't even tell the lazy so and so off to vent dome of his rage. The smell of cold wax filled the room, the faint aroma of his breakfast still lingering. It all simply added to the strange interminable day he felt he kept re-living. The notion of returning to the banquet was dismissed quickly, as he stalked about his room, tugging off his clothing, before landing on his bed with a thud and yanking his boots off before turning them into missiles that flew across the room. Groaning, he fell backwards, closing his eyes. He should never have ordered her to meet him. It had been a request, yet on reflection, his curt clipped words may have roused the independent flare he so admired in Gwen, and his stomach flipped, regret a roar in his blood. Desire to search her out floored him, but he stayed put, knowing that in his current mood, their meeting could end badly. He threw an arm across his eyes, and concentrated on levelling his heart beat. Tonight was only going to get longer he thought, and hoped exhaustion would force his mind to quit and give him some peace.


	3. Chapter 3

TITLE: The Longest Day

Author: Shabbytiger

Show: Merlin

Pairing: Arthur and Gwen

Genre: Romance

Warnings: MA for adult content later...plus set after episode 3 x 10.

Disclaimer: Characters not mine, just borrowed for naughty purposes :P

Multi Chapter and Complete.

/

" No honestly, I am fine, I'm just going to go home and sleep it off." Gwen grimaced as the words fell stiffly from her lips, tension causing her back to creak in protest as she finally managed to escape the serving girls. Goodness, she wanted to scream at them to mind their own business. Ever since the Enchanted Kiss as it was now known amongst the castles scurrying masses, she could hardly move without some comment from those she barely knew, yet seemed to feel knew her intimately. Stopped at the door, turned back by encouraging smiles, she had been forced to try another route, lest she cause a scene as the girls giggled and chatted too loudly after sneaking crafty goblets of wine from the kitchen boys.

Her patience, a reliable trait most days, was rapidly snapping, and a sense of claustrophobia was started to crawl through her limbs, as each exit appeared blocked, every escape hampered. How, she mused, could the Prince leave without ceremony, yet she, a nobody, was being treated as though she were an honoured guest with whom the party could not continue without? It was ridiculous. It did not help that each person she so scrupulously tried to avoid latched on like a limpet and sought her word on Merlin, and when he was returning to the castle. When he did return, she decided, he was going to get an earful. She was not his personal message service for goodness sake. With each passing minute that dragged by, she pictured Arthur, his eager eyes fading as she still did not show. In the end it was this image that sharpened her tone and brook no argument as she firmly insisted they allow her to pass.

Her entire body was a screaming nerve ending as she all but ran to the corridor by the side of the hall, and bitter as it was to find that Arthur was not there, she could hardly blame him for giving up. Breathing hard, and clasping her hand to her throat, she scanned the way for tattling eyes, before marching toward his quarters. He deserved more, and before her courage failed her, it would be offered. The sweet light butterflies that lived in her stomach and grew wings at the merest hint of his presence were now hawks, soaring and swooping and making her giddy. She paused as a guard passed by, and she bowed her head, sure that every secret was obvious with a glance. The guard just walked on by, and she realised that this was normal. She was always running these halls at night whilst waiting on Morgana. Just a slight detour would be no real feat. With renewed confidence in her walk, she strode toward her target, hoping that he was not angry, and still wanted her company.

At his door , she hesitated. The intimacy was a little too real. Yes she had knocked on his door before, even been in his room with him unaccompanied. But now it was dark outside, and the lanterns lit, and her intentions far from innocent. The door key that her brother Elyan had gifted her with lay at her bosom, hanging from the leather thong she tried to hide amongst the neckline, and the weight of it, the cool touch of the metal, made her count to ten. She toyed with the thin silver key, letting her mind wander from its deviant course. Elyan had insisted on putting a lock on her door since his work at the forge meant a live in position, and in truth, she was relieved she still had her privacy. The lock had been a thoughtful gesture, but it would still be awhile before Elyan became a regular fixture in her life again. They had both inherited their mothers fierce independent streak, and having lived alone for so long, it was odd to have family again, and both struggled with the concept. Besides which, she avoided his forge when possible, since he favoured Tom so much, that seeing him there, in his place hurt too much some days.

Squaring her shoulders, and calling herself a coward, she raised a hand to knock on the dark wood when footsteps down the way made her jump, her hand at her throat tugging the leather thong undone easily. Embarrassed, she fell to her knees, searching beneath her feet for the thing, hating her many skirts, and terrified that she would be found here, at Arthur's door. With no reasonable explanation as to why. Thudding feet and her heartbeat deafened her, her fingers clasping metal at last. Before standing, she knew she would have to run from the guards, and that she would not dare come back. He was so close; she could knock, he may open the door and pull her inside. Or she could knock and still be waiting as the guard rounded the corner. Closing her eyes and throwing herself at the Gods mercy, she ripped a flower from her hair and wrapped it roughly about the key and thong. Holding it to her lips, she winced as the feet pounding stone grew closer, and with a small prayer, she slid the makeshift package beneath Arthur's door, knocked hard and then ran. As she lifted her skirts to aid a longer stride, she thought of all the things that could go wrong with her foolish impulsive gesture. He may not even realise what the key was. May not find it till morning. All of which were irrelevant she thought, joy filling her up and drowning her heart. She had tried. She had taken a leap, and of that she was proud.

The guards rounded the corner just as she ducked into the next, and relief pounded through her rattling chest, making her want to laugh aloud. Smoothing her hair down, trying to tame the wild curls, she regained some modicum of control, and strolled toward Morgana's rooms, to fetch the spare key she had hidden there in case she had lost the thong. This time, when she met guards en route she smiled serenely, as anticipation and excitement mingled in her blood and tipped her stomach. Now it was her turn to wait. And she would.

/

The knock at the door was an unwelcome interruption, and Arthur cursed as he sat up right, heart rate through the roof and breathing ragged. In the half light of his chamber, he glanced to the door through the curtains about his bed and debated on bothering to answer. There was only one face he did and didn't want to see right now, and since that person knocking on his bed chamber was as likely as his father outing himself as a sorcerer, the temptation to ignore it was strong. Yet since Merlin was away, it was hardly usual for his peace to be disturbed at such an hour, and worry formed a knot in his gut. However much he wanted to hide, he was the Prince of Camelot. If there was something wrong, he had to deal with it. Especially if Uther was still making merry at the banquet. Not for the first time he envied those without such titles and responsibilities, and he forced himself to his feet, tying the loose belt at his trousers closed. Running both hands down his thighs, he grimaced, and went to the door, hearing a guard trundle past as he approached.

Dragging the door wide, blinking hard as the light from the lanterns blinded him after the relative darkness of his room, he barked hello before opening them again. Then opened one slowly as the silence his greeting elicited. Nobody stood at his door. His senses caught a waft of something akin to lilac, and the depths his desperate imagination would plummet angered him. But still he searched anyway, hope a fire lit within him, no matter how futile that hope may be. The corridor was empty as he scanned it, the tapestries hanging quietly, as if mocking his confusion. At times, he felt as though the walls themselves were laughing at him, were teasing some secret beyond his reach. The ghosts of his ancestors whispering within the stone about his lack of acuity. Yet he felt them, bearing down upon him, at odd occasions, usually when Merlin stared at him blankly, after some mishap or mysterious happening that he could almost, but never quite, grasp the meaning of.

Though he would never share such fanciful ideas, it had occurred to him more than once that his life was being guided by unseen hands, and on darker nights, when Uther's will was impervious to all reason, he hoped it was his mother. He knew he should not pine for the woman he had never known, recognised it as the weakness it was, but it comforted him, when he would never admit to needing comfort, and soothed him, when unanswered questions buzzed about his head till dawn. Now the whispers were silent, and the emptiness in the corridor seemed colder for it. There were no ghosts lingering here tonight. Nothing but the ache in his chest and the stone walls that were as much his home, as his prison. The disloyal thought was an icicle in his chest, and he cursed. He needed...well what he needed he could not have. Not yet. So sleep would have to suffice.

On turning to close the door, and return to his bed, something caught his eye on the tiled floor, something silver, winking as the light from the hallway struck it square. Frowning, he crouched to examine it, holding the door open so he could see clearly. As his fingers wrapped around the object, he felt petals crush beneath his skin, and something inside slid to the left, as he bought it up to the light. A key, tied to a thin leather thong, with a flower half wrapped about it. His fingers shook as he held the key close. He had been teased and tormented by this key over the last few days, every time Gwen bent to pour a glass of wine at dinner, or curtsied way too deeply for him not to think explicit thoughts...this key had nestled in her cleavage, peeking between the ruffles of her corsets and the creamy promise of her skin. Now he glanced back to the hallway, and the tapestries appeared to hang at an angle, as a dog would cock its head at its master. A question. Well?

Unable to withhold the grin that split his face, he paused, unsure. So much had happened. Gwen's life so very nearly...He shook his head clearing the morbidity. If they were caught again, Uther would not hesitate. A flare of rebellion and rage sparked his feet to move to the window. The leaded panes looked directly onto the castle forecourt. The guards were reaching the point of the evening when all the sneaked tankards of mead would be catching up on them, making them groggy. The bridge was up. Half the lower town had been drafted in to act as extra staff to the local dignitaries.

And Gwen. Gwen had knocked at his door. Curling the key into his palm, he began to hunt for his boots, wishing he hadn't such a powerful arm as he spied one above his wardrobe. Then he grinned again. He no longer wanted the day to be over. Not even close.


	4. Chapter 4

TITLE: The Longest Day

Author: Shabbytiger

Show: Merlin

Pairing: Arthur and Gwen

Genre: Romance

Warnings: MA for adult content later...plus set after episode 3 x 10.

Disclaimer: Characters not mine, just borrowed for naughty purposes :P

Multi Chapter and Complete.

/

Gwen closed the door, and found that her legs wouldn't carry her to the chair at the table. So she let her back slide down to the ground, and held herself tightly, the shawl she wore, thin and scratchy against her icy skin. The lower town was deserted tonight. It was so silly, she chided herself, so silly to still be scared. The adventure of sliding the key beneath Arthur's door felt like it had happened a year ago, a lifetime ago. Reaching for her throat, her fingers searched for the thong, wondering if it had been a dream. Her neckline was devoid of the thin leather strap, and her heart hiccuped. Oh lord she had done it. The hysterical giggle that burst from her lips was creepy to her own ears, and she stopped still, body on fire with exhilaration and nerves. Better that than fear she thought. Anything was better than that.

Much as she smiled, and tried to maintain her happy exterior, the past still lived in her every moment, and on nights like tonight, when the sound of her footsteps on the cobbled paths of the market square were all she could hear, it screeched beneath her skin like a living creature battling for freedom. She closed her eyes, and waited for her panic to fade, replacing memories of burly men and grubby hands with Arthur's face. She loved his face. The rare admission, even privately shared, eased her trembling form, and she began to relax. Wrapping her arms about her waist, she was infused with warmth, as a stronger memory stole her thoughts. Arthur's hugs were like being held outside of time. He was so hard and warm and quiet, when his arms enfolded her, and his chin rested on her hair, never breaking the moment with idle chatter, or murmuring words that meant nothing compared to the utter rightness of his embrace. Time stretched as she allowed the memory of his touch to envelop her.

It still surprised her, how completely Arthur had become a permanent beat in her heart. Oh he had always been handsome, brave, every inch the Prince and easy to admire on some superficial level, but now he was real. Whole. A man who lived and breathed and hurt like the rest, and who shared his doubts and asked her opinions and who loved her. Now her fingers trailed at her throat, and the knowledge spurred her from the floor. For a moment, she recalled the night she had waited for him once before, and the hurt that had splintered her in two when he had not appeared. She refused to allow such self pity again. If Arthur found her key, if he knew what she was trying to say, he would be here. If he could not make it, she would smile at him come morning, and know still, that they were united, despite the distance enforced upon them. The realisation, the confidence it inspired, soothed her nerves entirely. Lighting a candle on the table, she smiled, no longer afraid, at least, not whilst her heart distracted her so, and she lit the stove, knowing sleep was a mile away. A hot drink would calm her further she told herself, pausing at the mirror beside the back room. Where her bed now hid behind a gauzy curtain. She wasn't waiting, not at all.

Lighting another candle, so that her home was now bathed in pale gold light, and soft shadows, Gwen felt lighter than she had for days. Simply doing something had been so invigorating, and she couldn't stop grinning as she imagined Arthur finding the small key in the morning, his face making that annoyed look he seemed to wear constantly around Merlin. Much as she would prefer he find it, and in some romantic fantasy appear at her door, opening it, as a husband would after a long day, reaching for her with tight arms...well the thought of his frustration was too funny to will away.

Singing a song that her mother had taught her, long enough ago now that it just held a hint of sadness, she fussed with the tea and let her home and its familiarity ease her erratic pulse.

Which leapt wildly, causing her to spill hot water on the side when the lock in the door snapped, and the door began to creep open.

Arthur had found his way here. Oh lord.

/

Since his departure to care for his mother, Arthur had not missed, nor wished for Merlin's presence more. Still wearing the garments he had meant to sleep in, his hair dishevelled from running his hand through it constantly, the escape from the castle had been a keen test of his wits. Having Merlin act as a distraction was far easier than doubling back down hallways, and after what he was sure was his third full circuit of the entire bloody castle, he finally reached the forecourt. Doused in shadow, with the sound of music still drifting from the hall, he had been so relieved to be free, that he had almost stumbled into a pair of guards, caught in a debate by the courtyard gates.

" Lucan, no one will know we left for a little while. My Hetty is in the kitchens, saved us a plate of the good stuff she did. Lets live a little lad."

" Go if you like Sid. I won't leave my post. It's my duty tonight."

" Duty?" The older of the pair snorted, and Arthur sank back into the shadows of the wall, curious about the exchange, and half willing Lucan to give in to Sid and let him pass unhindered. " Its two bits a week and the grunt work when the glory boys are all busy that's what it is."

" You shouldn't speak like that Sid. There is no greater honour than defending your own home. If I wanted a better pay I'd have joined me da in the roofing trade."

" Then more fool you boy, cos you'll get no thanks for your dedication here. Oh the boy seems fair, if you ignore his arrogance, but Uther? He'll have any head on a pike soon as look at 'em. Man's intent on killing his own. Got no just in him."

The sound of a sword being drawn caught Arthur unaware and he backed up, thinking he had been discovered. Instead a muffled gasp escaped the older guards throat as Lucan, clutched his comrades uniform at the neck.

" That man is your King and you should address him in kind in the shadow of his own home." Arthur grew curiouser now, a sense of pride in the younger man almost forcing him out of the dark.

" Bloody hell Lucan get off." Scrambling and a grunt. " I've seen you eyeing the chain mail and shields soft lad. I know you think that by being honourable, you'll get noticed. Won't happen boy. Blood lines not talent get you a Knighthood. You're just lucky I've had a drink tonight else I'd clip ya black and blue ya sod."

" When Cenred comes, and he will, it won't matter who wields what sword or bears what title Sid. We'll all fall together. Men are all equal in death are they not?"

Arthur's fists clenched. Sid sighed, and his words only just reached Arthur as they began the walk about to check the perimeter.

" Oh aye lad, they'll really value you then. Fodder for the war machine, whilst they ride pretty horses and celebrate victory won at your expense. Stick with me son, come and get the food before the kitchen vultures snag it won't you?"

Arthur held his breath, Lucan's response mattering a great deal in the dark.

" Go on Sid. I won't tell. But I won't leave either."

Arthur slipped through the gates as the pair shook hands on the pact, and ducked into the lee of a nearby building. Lucan came to the gates and looked out, his youth stark in the moon light. Arthur felt his throat crack. Making himself a promise to recall the boy to his captain, he waited, and then began a swift jog towards Gwen's house, the key in his breast pocket, once the young guard turned away.

The lower town was eerily devoid of life as he traversed the familiar streets, and as the night air nipped his bones through his shirt, the thought of Gwen making the same journey, alone, sped his feet. It probably never occurred to Gwen to wait for the other serving girls on the walk home each night, he thought, a little irritated. Gwen hid her fear, holding her head high as she left the castle come dark, and he watched whenever possible from the window of his room. Most of the staff hung around for each other before making their way home, chatting about their day and turning the security measure into a social event. Gwen never waited. He loved that about her, yet it gnawed at him too, her constant refusal to seek out help or to appear weak. Gwen walked home alone most nights to prove to the world and perhaps herself that she still could, that fear was not her master, but he saw the way she started when approached from behind, noticed the hesitance in her gait when a noise startled her, the whitening of her knuckles clutching her shawl.

Her tight reign on her emotions stung him at times, mostly during the rare moments they were alone, and he couldn't keep his eyes or thoughts off her lips, the need to kiss her ravaging his control. She almost always stepped back, refusing to give in to the heat that sizzled between their skin. He quickened his pace, conscious of every sound, the smell of ash and cold smoke filling his lungs, as the few residents still in the lower town rather than the castle settled in for bed. Bed. He didn't mean to examine Gwen's motives for the gift she had bestowed tonight...couldn't whilst trying to function. Yet now, as her door came into sight, the small neat home he had started to view as his during a tournament held a lifetime ago, his head was full of what may await him beyond the threshold. As he slid from the shadows, searching left and right for watchful eyes, he drew in deep breaths. Placing a hand either side of the wooden barrier, the only thing that lay between him and Gwen, he leant in, his forearms flexing, the key in his palm burning his skin as the leather strip threaded through his fingers. Swallowing, he released his hands and stood upright, his thighs tight.

He didn't even consider knocking, as he looked at the key in his hand. He just slid the silver thread of metal into the lock and turned it.


	5. Chapter 5

TITLE: The Longest Day

Author: Shabbytiger

Show: Merlin

Pairing: Arthur and Gwen

Genre: Romance

Warnings: MA for adult content later...plus set after episode 3 x 10.

Disclaimer: Characters not mine, just borrowed for naughty purposes :P

Multi Chapter and Complete.

/

Gwen tried to speak, she really did when he walked through the door, head bent before looking her direct in the eye. She meant to offer tea, offer anything, but he just raised his face that way he did when they were alone, and all the words in the world fell from her skull and left her mute.

He closed the door slowly, as if scared of making any sudden movement and breaking the moment. The intoxicating combination of his physical strength and emotional vulnerability slammed into her as his eyes connected again, a deep navy blue that glowed with an inner fire that positively pulsed to life between them. The stark question, and the fact he was here, had taken her gesture and returned it gave her courage in the silence. They were no longer the awkward glancing pair denying the depth of their emotional bond. So she refused to falter again as her skin shrilled in anticipation of his touch.

As the seconds stretched, she began to move, and was gratified by the subtle exhale of Arthur's chest as she approached. It was the most natural thing in the world to reach up and cup his face, to press her thumb to his softly stubbled jaw and circle it, as he turned, closed his eyes and touched his lips to her palm. The connection was erotic as hell and Gwen let her eyelids drop, Arthur filling her vision, and his slight groan buzzing through her like static. Her breathing became a hiccup in her lungs and throat as Arthur draped a hand at her waist, pulling her to him, and the reality of his presence, and fingers scorching her skin through her corset had her stomach flipping cartwheels and her heart performing one long beat that she feared may never end.

Now his free hand was at her nape, and her hand sliding from his jaw as his mouth found hers in a languid kiss. She melted. Breathed deep, and pressed closer as his tongue brushed her lips, his hold at her waist and the fingers curling in her hair still loose, his body taut. She smiled into his kiss and let his tongue slide between her teeth, his hesitance speaking to something she hadn't realised she was clinging to. She let it go easily, a boat being freed from its moorings, and threaded her hands through his fair hair, holding his head as she kissed him back. She flicked her tongue to his, and the brief shock the move sparked in his frame sent her knees watery.

Their first kiss had been in this room, lit by golden sunlight, as he had prepared to joust one last time as Sir William. That kiss had startled her, drawn her in, the impulsive gesture on Arthur's part taking them both by surprise. Yet the beauty of it had haunted her, such a simple sweet kiss, purely given, without thought of consequence. Now she craved more than the sweet kisses they had shared spurred by circumstance and timing. As his chest pulsed beneath hers, the dark rough hairs peeking through the loose ties of his vee necked shirt tickling her collar bone as she strained on tip toes to hold his mouth to hers, she revelled in the luxury of the unhurried kiss. Savouring the way his tongue stroked and teased hers, the way he tasted of apples and mint, with a hint of wine beneath. Her skin broke out in goosebumps as his fingers stroked upwards, his hand curving at her side and his thumb and palm settling below the curve of her breast. In one fell swoop her corset was both non existent and entirely too constricting. Her lungs stopped working.

They broke the kiss momentarily, and Gwen stared at Arthur, lips parted, glossy in the half glow of the candle light. His face was a pale sculpture, blue eyes heated as he opened them slow, cheek bones sharp in relief where charcoal shadows fell. He was gorgeous, no denying it, she thought raggedly, his hair golden and slightly skewed from her hands roaming through it. He was also flesh and blood and bone and heart, and as his hand stroked further upwards, his thumb pad brushing the delicate skin of her breast peeking above the gown, her thoughts shattered like glass.

Gripping his forearm, the masculine sinew covered in fine hairs flexing under her grasp, she pulled his teasing fingers upwards, to her mouth. It was almost unbearable to hold his gaze, as his pupils dilated till dark pools drowned her, but she held on, keeping the eye contact through her lashes, as she drew one strong lean finger into her mouth, and sucked gently. His lips parted, his tongue darting out, then his jaw clamped and he let her play, though from her hold on his arm, she could sense his desire jump, as his muscles strained. She knew she was behaving wantonly, yet it did not seem wanton, rather, exactly right. This was right.

Suckling on his finger she splayed his hand, pushing her head back into the hand that never strayed from her neck, relishing the power and heat his touch radiated. He was a wall, all strength and muscle and immovability, but she knew if she protested he would still. That knowledge gave her a confidence like nothing else, and she bit down on his index finger, before licking the length of it, and nibbling again. His eyes gleamed, and she found the soft flesh between his thumb and forefinger, sucking and kissing, teasing the calloused palm with a hot tongue. She wanted to cherish him, worship him, the way his eyes and mouth did her whenever they could. His weariness was not a cloud he carried, but she was acutely aware of his fatigue, it lived in the swoop of his shoulder, in the crooked half smile he wore when thoughtful, in the furrow of his brow he lifted quickly when being observed. Mimicking the kiss to the palm he had greeted her with, she stared at his response, wallowing in his passion deep gaze. Then he stepped closer, just a fraction, and his legs were wrapped in her skirts, burning her up, as his erection hit her thigh, smooth and hard through the silky fabric of her dress.

Instinctively, she ground at him, her hips rolling and his head snapped to the ceiling, his throat exposed and kissable, so she took advantage, burying her face in his neck, licking and tasting , opening her mouth in wide greedy pulls at his skin. Her hands rested upon both forearms now, and she felt the shift, as she stroked from his wrists upward to his elbow, circling the soft delicate skin in the crease of his arm.

As she let her teeth sink into his muscled shoulder line, followed by a sweep of her tongue, she wobbled as his control smashed and found herself hoisted to the table top, to sit on the wooden bench whilst he slipped between her thighs and tugged her bottom closer to the edge of the table, so that his arousal struck gold at the juncture of her thighs. Now Gwen's head swam, as Arthur bent to steal her lips in a hot wet kiss that fried her cognitive functions. The kiss laid it bare, all tongue and teeth and incendiary sucking on her lower lip, his tongue dipping into the sensitive flesh just behind . It sent spasms through her hips and she jerked forward, meeting his stiff arousal in a wild clash of legs and thighs and hard and soft. She moaned, unashamedly.

Finally he spoke, dragging his mouth from hers, breathing hard, eyes like thunder.

" Guinevere you should tell me to go now." A quick kiss, nibbling her top lip, pulling it into his mouth with a groan. " Tell me to go, before I make a fool of myself."

" Arthur," it came out a breathy whisper, half strangled as he sought her mouth again, leaning down on her, his chest a furnace blast against the skin at her throat and peeking above her corset. " Why would you think such a thing?" Another kiss, wetter, hotter, forcing her back to the table top. " You aren't making-"

" Guinevere," he pulled back, forehead kissing hers as he panted, his voice like gravel that scoured her entire nervous system, " I want more than we can have right now." Nudging her with his arousal, letting her feel exactly what he wanted, what his body wanted. " I should-"

Grasping his head firmly, she forced him to look her in face, to see the truth in her words.

" Arthur." His name cracked, and she swallowed, smiling. " I'm yours. You're mine. You can have anything you want." She felt her face flood with bright colour, but lifted her chin anyway, not wishing to spoil the moment with coyness. wanting him to understand exactly what she was offering. She shouldn't offer it. It wasn't ladylike, or demure, or any of the things she supposed a serving girl should offer a Prince with hopes he would love her afterwards, but in the glow of candlelight and in the circle of his arms, it was the truth. With so much stacked against them, the future no matter their optimism was uncertain. He was here now. And so was she.

" Guinevere." He breathed her name, as always turning the syllables into a caress, and her heart jacked, as his face softened, the weight of her words settling upon him. " I lo-"

" No." She kissed his declaration away. The words still a promise that on some level she shied from. They seemed such a fantasy. So like a fairytale. " Don't tell me. Show me."

And that undid him.


	6. Chapter 6

TITLE: The Longest Day

Author: Shabbytiger

Show: Merlin

Pairing: Arthur and Gwen

Genre: Romance

Warnings: MA for adult content later...plus set after episode 3 x 10.

Disclaimer: Characters not mine, just borrowed for naughty purposes :P

Multi Chapter and Complete.

/

Practical as ever Gwen fussed over the stove, making sure the boiled kettle was set aside, and the stove off. Arthur let her, seeing the nerves, and honestly, feeling them too. He stood behind her as she bustled, his hands finding her hips, his lips meeting her hair as she paused, and finally her anxiety was wrung out, and she slid her hand into his. He breathed deep, the lilac scent of her skin filling him up and he let her lead him to the gauzy curtain that separated her sleeping quarters from the kitchen and the living space.

A smile passed between them, since Arthur had been the not so secret benefactor of her new bed, and had ordered it placed in the same spot she had bedded down on sacks so long before. The gesture had been well received, but for the scolding she had given him for his high handed way of going about the gift. It had been worth it he decided, as she allowed him into her bedchamber, and his heart hitched at the transformation she had made of the cold stores. A pretty white spread covered the bed, and a hand quilted purple throw at the foot that he just knew she had sewn herself. Talented, he thought, eyeing the curtains that fell to the floor, she was so talented. She knew how to do secret feminine things, yet was proficient in his sphere too, constantly surprising him with knowledge about weaponry and armour, though she simply raised an eyebrow when he began to utter his amazement. And he would nod, with a beatific expression, resisting the urge to express his admiration. After all, she was the daughter of a blacksmith.

Now they stood facing each other, and the candles she had so conscientiously snuffed out sent wisps of white smoke through the cool air of the room. Torn between throwing her to the bed and getting down on his knees, Arthur hesitated, before making a bold decision. He tugged the white shirt over his head, the chill hitting him, and he tensed, as her eyes slid across his chest. Gods her brown eyes branded him. Shyness, a condition he had never previously suffered from, suddenly struck him immobile, as panic reared its head. What if he disappointed her? He wasn't lean like Merlin, didn't have the slender physique of some of the younger knights. He was broad at the shoulder, years of wielding a sword and training and fighting had carved him from rock, his stomach ridged, hair covering a thick muscular chest. His arms were tight, solid muscle. She looked fragile in the darkness, her curls and warm eyes, and small slim hands achingly breakable. He felt like a beast come to savage the maiden, and his chest heaved. Perhaps this was a wish too far, a need too great he reasoned. Status aside, it was he, in this moment, that felt the yawning divide between them, and class had naught to do with it. He simply knew, she was too good for him. Too special for his calloused hands, too clever for his fumbling attempts at seduction.

Then she smiled and it lit the darkness, her hands at her side as she teasingly undid her bodice, the ribbon loosening a row at a time as she pulled the pale lavender ribbon from each eyelet. Barely able to form a full thought, he watched, mesmerised as the bodice began to fall. Gwen's eyes were fixed upon him, and the reassurance her actions offered puffed his chest out, adding inches to his height as he waited, his heart in his mouth, tension dissolving into longing.

The corset drifted downwards, and she fiddled with her back fastening, allowing the skirts to fall too. Her bare arms were slim and smooth, the colour of caramel, honey, everything sweet. His mouth was dry, his head turning to wool. He kicked off his boots. She wore a thin slip beneath her dress, and he could see every curve, his gut clenching as his cock twitched in his trousers. Using his thumbs, and keeping his eyes on her, he bent and yanked them off, stepping free of the material as it puddled on the floor. Naked. He was standing yards from Gwen, from her mouth, from her bed, and he was naked. Adrenaline forged through his veins, and anticipation greater than any he had known, any battle, any joust, this, right here, topped anything he had experienced for sheer skin stinging excitement. He should have been cold, but he felt nothing but the heat of her gaze as she drank him in, and it fired him up, as he stood firm, emboldened by the streak of fire that arced the distance between them. Now he had upped the stakes, he held his breath, waiting to see her response.

Gwen, his courageous Gwen; did not back down. He watched the flutter of her erratic pulse at her throat, wanting to taste it, kiss it, soothe it, as she raised trembling fingers to the thin straps of her slip. Throat locked, he simply stared, unable to believe this was actually happening, as the silky cream shift gave way, one shoulder at a time, and toffee coloured skin took its place as she shimmied it from her frame. She was beautiful. Spellbinding, he thought, with a secret smile. Her breasts were full, dark nipples proud in the cool air, the soft curve of her stomach and the flare of her hips from a waist he could span with his hands easily making his jaw ache. Her final secret, he could see outlined like a whisper beneath her tiny, so tiny undergarments, cut high at her thighs, revealing the length of her lean smooth legs, and dipping low at her waist, to reveal the cut of her pelvis. She had made those, he knew it. Only his Gwen would make a practicality so charming, so delectable. His vision blurred, and time took a moment to gain its own composure as she slipped off her tan shoes, her toes as suckable and delicious as every other part of her.

" You're beautiful." His voice was unrecognisable as his own, but the sentiment all his. She smiled, her eyes glowing. By some unspoken mutual consent, they both stepped forward, and he could hear nothing but blood roaring in his ears as the hair at his chest rose, as if reaching out for her already, craving closer contact. His erection was leading the way, but he could feel no embarrassment that Gwen witness what she did to him on such a basic level. Just as her arousal flushed cheeks, her nipples hard and puckered, her stomach muscle spasms delicately strumming the smooth skin of her abdomen as she met him, all lay open to his scrutiny, it was natural to share such intimacies.

" You make me feel beautiful," she confessed lowly, and he could no longer restrain his hands, dragging her tight to meet the full naked length of his body, his mouth meeting hers with groan ripped right from the heart of him. His tongue filled her mouth, greedy and eager, and she stunned him as she sucked it, pulling the wet muscle deep inside. Any thought of ending this before it went too far vanished along with his control, and he lifted her, holding her warm almost naked body tight as he stalked to the bed. He needed her under him, over him, touching him. Lust warred with tenderness as he placed her on the soft bedding, but she captured his mouth with hers and kissed him senseless, removing lingering caution completely.

" Guinevere." Her hand slipped to his cock, the heel of her palm and the dry papery feel of her skin on his erection sending him through the roof. He bit his lip, concentrating all he had on maintaining control. A tear glistened at the head of his hard on, and she slicked it with her thumb across the sensitive tip. " Christ I can't-you can't do that if this is going to end right."

" End right?" She was brazenly teasing him now, tugging him to lay above her, undulating her hips, pressing her breasts to his chest, rubbing her nipples at his chest hair, driving him insane. She was a minx. And he loved it. Ducking his head, he fastened his lips to her left breast, circling the tight nub at its centre with his tongue, hips bucking as she moaned and her hands pulled his head and mouth tighter to her soft flesh. He was aching now, his cock straining at her thighs, his hips rolling, and he dragged his tongue and teeth across her nipple, fiercely proud as she spread her legs, knowing he did that. He was causing the pulsing arousal she was now grinding at him. Unable to resist her playful tone, he suckled harder at her breast, before lifting sex drugged eyes to hers.

" Ending right is me. Inside you." He was leaning his weight on his forearms, and she was wrapped within the circle of his arms, so he felt the very wild shudder that shot through her at his statement. He grinned, the sound of her sharply indrawn breath shooting straight to his groin.

" Arthur!" Her tone was rich and warm, an admonishment and an invitation in one delicious sound. He loved it when she said his name.

" Do you?" Startled, Arthur glanced at her, not realising he had spoken aloud. Mildly embarrassed, and unbearably moved by the gentle query, he buried his face in her neck, raining kisses all over the creamy soft skin, raking his teeth and tongue across the sweet scent of her, breathing in lilac and perspiration, the combination addictive. Gwen trailed her nails down his back, tracing patterns at his spine, applying pressure at points that caused him to gasp. Magic hands he thought, though he shouldn't. Perhaps not all magic was bad after all, he mused, his mouth fusing at her breast once more, his mouth finding the under curve, his tongue slipping into the crease under the soft globe, preening at her gasp.

She slipped her clever fingers down to his groin, and he bit off a curse as she enfolded him in a warm grip, his knees jarring on the throw as she tugged, before switching her hand and beginning to stroke him, her thumb a constant pressure at the head of his cock as she began to increase the pace of her strokes. His head fell back, and it took all his might to stop himself caving on top of her.

" Gwen...lord, please, give me a moment..." Arthur could hardly hold his hips still, his thighs screaming against the need to bury himself deep inside her. She paused, her eyes finding his, and he smiled at the worry he saw in the amber pools. He caught her mouth in a kiss, before breaking away as the roar in his head started up again. Her lips were wet and soft and warm, and so tempting, but his cock was its own master now, and he didn't want to rush her, wanted to explore her before-abruptly his head went blank as the image of them joined split his thoughts.

" Arthur." Her voice was steady, and he almost buckled again, as she spread her legs further, the smooth satin skin of her thighs sliding against his inner thighs that straddled her, tickling the hair, teasing the union he could hardly see clearly thinking about. " I want this." She caught his ear lobe between her teeth, licking the tender sensitised flesh. Her breathe on him was like a ghostly caress, teasing as her lips blazed ownership. He growled. Actually growled.

When she took his hand, forcing him to readjust his balance on his forearms, her hair brushing his jaw as she bent a little, her stomach meeting his in an inferno of lightning struck contact; he sucked in air, but found there was none in the room. Her slight hand led his, and he was butter in a pan as she slipped their joined hands beneath the slinky garment protecting her modesty. He squeezed his eyes closed as she guided his fingers to her heated centre, and his spine liquefied as his forefinger dipped and caressed moist curls, before sliding inside her folds.

Gods she was wet, and slickly hot, her muscles tight and inviting, throbbing about his finger and her hitched breathe tore his heart. He snatched her lips to his, forcing her head back as his finger stroked, pushing, falling back, pushing again, but never too far, as her flesh seemed to swell about his ministrations. She felt full and the thought of tasting her shot his thighs with lead, making his limbs weak. Her kiss was wild in return, suckling at his lower lip, teeth scraping his lips and tongue as she ground against his hand, allowing him deeper access. He had died and this was heaven he thought, the skin stretched taut at his shoulders buzzing as her hands ran down his sides, pulling him in, smoothing over muscles as he twisted, to lean on one elbow as his free hand pumped at her wild wet heart. Then his thumb stroked her just right, finding the swollen nub at the tip of her folds and she careened upwards, her strangled cry lost in his mouth as he swallowed her response. Breathing was hard now, god everything was hard except her, all soft wet and slippy in his hands.

Her hands clutched his hips, and he threw his hips forward, incapable of holding back and the smooth head of his cock slicked at her, his hand faltering as he strained, but Gwen was as far gone as he was and she tugged his hand to her breast, staring into his eyes as she lifted her bottom from the bed, meeting his erection, rubbing her soaked curls against his shaft. He was done.

Rising up onto his hands, his chest pulling from hers, he gazed down on her face, rocking his hips forward, tortured and enraptured by her sweet scent and welcoming heat.

She stared back, and he wanted to say something, something beautiful, worthy, but when her hand slid down his chest, her lips fastening on one flat nipple he lost the ability, and her hand slid lower as she kissed his chest, until it found him again. The moment she drew him to her, and guided him inside the wet tight pulsing folds he almost came there and then.

" Its all right Arthur." She whispered, as he stilled, and she surged further from the bed to take him in and he was burying himself, full tilt in her drenched opening. They both felt the wall, shuddered as it snapped and she bit his shoulder hard, him kissing her neck, licking, and sucking as his hips began to move, his lips at her ear, returning the erotic caress she had floored him with.

Her teeth eased at his shoulder muscle, though he felt no pain, nothing but her tight pulsing glove encasing him, breathing him in like air, squeezing him hard and fast as she pulsed like a heartbeat all around him.


	7. Chapter 7

TITLE: The Longest Day

Author: Shabbytiger

Show: Merlin

Pairing: Arthur and Gwen

Genre: Romance

Warnings: MA for adult content later...plus set after episode 3 x 10.

Disclaimer: Characters not mine, just borrowed for naughty purposes :P

Multi Chapter and Complete.

/

He had slid her legs wide to aid his entry, so she now felt as wrapped about his lower body as his torso and arms were about her upper body and the roughness of his thick thighs between her legs was intoxicating, her legs raising to rub against him, the skin on her inner thighs sensitised and moist. He bit off an oath before catching her eyes with a ferocious glow that shook her, stole her train of thought. Her undergarment tore with a snap of his wrist at the seam and fell from her, revealing her dark curls to his view. She would stitch them back up she thought absently, as the removal allowed him to mingle their pubic hair with each thrust. It was ridiculously sensual the way he watched his cock disappear inside her folds.

The pain she had been warned of by the older women whom tried as best to do what her mother couldn't, was fleeting but sharp and fierce as he thrust deep. His eyes were black as she winced, then bit the supple slope of his shoulder, riding out the hurt, as pleasure replaced it in a torrent of sensation. Gwen had been scared of the first time, foolishly baulking at the idea of what was supposed to be sweet and loving, mixed with the agony that she had been told to expect. Now as her hips seemed to expand to take him in, to fit his pelvis to hers so perfectly, she thought she would faint from the sheer reality of it.

This wasn't like the tales she secretly read, the damsels being loved as bed clothes hid their modesty, and the knights averted their gaze as gentlemen should. This was raw and powerful and all consuming, his weight pinning her to the bed; his scent, all wood and perspiration and lingering smoke from his walk through the town invading her along with his cock, that filled her up, making her back ache in the best most delicious way she had known.

He did not close his eyes as he began to thrust, each move of his hips matched by his eyes that bore into hers, as invasive and hot as the smooth hard erection he teased her with. Her skin stung and sang all over, and she couldn't keep her hands from his chest, from his neck, before trailing to his hips, holding him as he found a slow languid rhythm she hadn't known existed. She was floating, but utterly present, aware of his breathing as he made noises in his throat with each forward tilt that joined them closer. She wanted to take him all in, feeling each stroke like a lick at her cleft as he angled his body higher above hers, drilling her to the bed. Colours swam, and her body reacted to every look, firing pleasure up her spine, till she felt sure she could no longer stand it. The place he had stroked with his thumb hummed as he slid inside, then retreated, rubbed by his cock in the most sinfully charged contact she had never imagined. This was how people loved each other, she thought, head dizzy as he lifted his body from hers, totally, without shame, for the joy of it, the ecstasy of it.

Bereft of his chest as he lifted, she mewled, blushing at the need she couldn't help betraying. Her hands shaped his pectoral muscles, and she marvelled at the memory of his younger self, so many years ago, before his height topped and his training carved him from rock. Now he was a man on his way to rule, and though the thought should have given her pause, it just added to the crescendo of bliss bubbling up from the well inside. He was shifting his legs up the bed, until he was kneeling, careful not to break the deep connection. His thighs were rough and the tickling at the backs of her thighs sent her on another flight of sensory overload. He loved her. The worry that flashed in his eye at her distressed sound scorched her heart, and she smiled, letting him know she was fine, words wanting loose as nerves cascaded along with the pins and needles of pleasure spiking her spine.

" Am I-" Unsure, yet suddenly terrified that this union was not as stunning for him, she carried on, the words falling in smoky tones, " I'm sorry if I am not-" He kissed the words from her mouth, swallowing them, his passion wild and hot as he thrust faster, harder, blinding her thoughts with nothing but stars.

" Guinevere," he choked, as his mouth finally freed hers, settling back, almost upright, staring down at her, his hands at her hips, gripping tight. She blinked, writhing at her centre, feeling like quick sand pulling him in. " Shut up."

Shocked, she stifled a gasp, seeing the teasing light in his eyes as he began his strokes once more, his throat twitching convulsively with each insertion.

" You are perfect. Always have been." He threw his head back, and she surged up to meet his hips, feeling her muscles tighten about him, breathless as a current began to charge in the base of her spine and snake its way higher, spreading throughout her limbs. One of his hands trailed the curve of her hip across her abdomen, and butterflies took wing to join the growing static coursing through her veins. His fingers found her breast, toyed with her taut nipple and she lifted from the bed, her legs whipping at the sheets, and she wrapped them about his waist , guided by instinct and the need to show her pleasure, her need as much as he. He reacted almost violently to the action, pausing a second to hold still, his breathing heavy and loud in the silence of the room. He met her querying glance, and she knew her face was soft, spent, delighted.

" I wanted to be tender Gwen." He sounded gruff, unlike the Arthur she knew, and panic was a rabbit in her heart, as she watched him put a hand to her hip bone, feeling his palm scrape her sizzling skin. " I tried. I need to-"

She had known she realised, feeling sacred. She had known he had held back, for fear he would hurt her. But she was wet and aching and he filled her, and as he tightened and shifted her legs about his waist, a feminine burst of pride swamped her. She was no doll, no fragile breakable thing. Raising herself up onto her elbows, her hair falling over her shoulders and concealing her breasts she lifted her face to his, and he bent to kiss her without thought. The thoughtless affection, fierce expression of desire even now, in the midst of making love, shot through to her core and she squeezed him with secret new muscles she was sure would ache for a year after. Not that it mattered.

" Love me Arthur. Please." She licked his throat as he moved back to his upright position, eyes muddy and mouth bruised and swollen. She had marked him, she realised, seeing the red marks where her lips and teeth had scored his shoulders and throat in the silvery shadows. The knowledge was deeply satisfying she thought, feeling smug. Then Arthur let his hips go, and she was shattering into a million pieces, being rebuilt and broken anew with his thunderous strokes and rapt expression thrown to the ceiling. No soft entry, or slow easing toward his goal. He simply charged at her, met by her hips that he tugged in time, her own ability to move long gone as his girth stretched and reshaped her, moulding her to him, making her his. Now the bubbling became a flood, as warmth bolted through her bones and nerve endings, shooting through her hips, spine, skull until her body was boneless and the ache inside pulsated, her legs quivering in reaction.

" Gwen I need to-you have to-" She could feel his climax coming, knowing she had to release her grip on his shaft, but hers was still going, rippling, stuttering through her inner muscles and she had no control as he tried to speak, his blue eyes wide and lips stretched as he clamped his teeth on his lower lip and then his thrust lurched ever deeper and she felt him spill inside, hot liquid, mingling with her own wetness.

Realisation broke her floating, and she blinked back tears suddenly, wondering if the moment had been ruined. Spoilt by her failure to act when he asked. Begged. He collapsed to his forearms, trapping her in a damp embrace, his perspiration cool on his skin as she kissed him, over and over, pressing her lips to his salty earthy taste. She blinked her eyes furiously, wanting this, this sweet moment of repletion to last forever, not to have to hear what he may say. His reaction to his seed flooding her. Oh Lord.

" Guinevere." The same inflection he had used so many times, but deeper now, the teasing gentle, brushing her hair from her face as he forced her to meet his eyes, still bleary from pleasure.

" Are you crying?" His expression was immediately concerned, his face paling as he examined her with worried eyes, his hands roaming her naked body, as though afraid he'd snapped bones. " What is it? Oh Gods-" He blanched, utter horror writ upon his handsome love drunk face. " You regret it? You wish-"

" Arthur. Shut up." She hiccuped the rebuke, laughing through her watery moment. He was wrapping his arms about her, pulling himself from her cleft, positioning himself on the bed and wrapping her tightly to his side, and he looked down at her face, a quick grin flashing in the grey darkness.

" So no regrets then?" He held nothing back, his heart in the question and she couldn't bear it. Spooning at his side she wrapped a leg across his, her breasts pressed at his side and chest, his arm beneath her head and hand at her waist. She placed her hand at his stomach, and wanted to purr. Perfect. They fit together so beautifully.

" No regrets." She pressed a kiss to his jaw, before tucking her head beneath it, not willing to let go yet. Not wanting him to ever leave the bed, let alone her home. Courage restored, she spoke softly. " I am sorry for, not letting you go when you asked me to." Blushing seemed redundant after sharing what they had but her face hadn't been told, and she felt the heat of it radiate at Arthur's chest and hair. His chest rumbled, and his hand smoothed a path along her hip line to curve under her behind, as if his hand belonged there. The gesture of ownership would have set her off in any other situation, but here, in bed, she cherished it, snuggling her backside further into his palm.

" Gwen for a smart woman you are adorably dumb at times." She whacked his chest playfully, but he laughed and caught her hand, kissing her fingers. " You would have needed a dozen or more horses to pull me away at that particular moment."

" That might have been difficult to arrange, let alone explain," she acknowledged, giggling into his shoulder. He laughed, and the moment was so domestic she almost believed it was real. He was staying here. This was their life.

" I am sorry." Arthur was serious now, absently stroking her backside, his fingers sending rivulets of pleasure along her skin, to mate with the afterglow of her orgasm. It thrilled her, making her squirm ever closer. He reacted by gripping her tighter, moving his leg to nestle between hers. " It was irresponsible and I am truly sorry to have put you in a position-"

" Shh." She put her fingers to his lips, their eyes meeting. " I am almost certain we have nothing to worry about." The head housekeeper of the castle was extremely careful with girls, and kept an all knowing eye on their physical welfare. She took each aside once a month and had a little chat about being careful for the next seven days. It was humiliating, but Gwen was suddenly very grateful for Miss Katharine's observant record keeping. Not that it was always heeded by some of the girls.

" Really?" Arthur was both puzzled at her comment, and relieved. He was quiet for a long moment, as he kissed the fingers he still held in his hand. Gwen hoped he was reassured, though a niggle in her heart said otherwise. " I guess that's a relief," he said finally, his chest moving with each word. " Though a child with your eyes and my charm would be no burden."

Gwen's heart split wide and deep, and tears once more pricked her eyes. Gods she was weepy mess. He was sometimes hard headed, stubborn...even arrogant. But Arthur loved with a depth that scared her and emboldened her too. He made her feel like anything was possible. Perhaps, in time, he would prove it too.

Unable to respond, she curled her hand to his, and pressed tight, sharing her warmth, aware some time later of Arthur pulling forward, lifting from the bed and panic darted through her, turning her stomach to stone at the thought of him leaving. Returning to his real life. She couldn't imagine seeing him daily, without touching him, without the world seeing this new shift in their relationship. When she felt the soft quilted throw being dragged across her, being tucked about her as he settled back down beside her, her heart undid a little more. She was never going to survive this intact she realised. She was already in pieces, and he took more each day without even knowing it.


	8. Chapter 8

TITLE: The Longest Day

Author: Shabbytiger

Show: Merlin

Pairing: Arthur and Gwen

Genre: Romance

Warnings: MA for adult content later...plus set after episode 3 x 10.

Disclaimer: Characters not mine, just borrowed for naughty purposes :P

Multi Chapter and Complete.

/

She woke with a start, to find him awake, and tracing soft intricate patterns into her shoulder blades, lying back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. It was still dark, and he was still holding her. Snuggling closer, relishing the immense heat they created beneath the thrown she put her head near his and stared up at the dream catcher her brother had found at the forge. Mother had decorated the home with them, though she was careful to call them ornaments, and leave out certain elements in their making. The chimes drifted, casting shadows at the far wall, and she couldn't resist kissing him on the cheek, greedy to take all she could whilst this lasted. His fingers stroked her, and she was content for the first time she could recall in recent memory.

" What is that?" Arthur's voice was soft and low, and she was torn momentarily between lying, and revealing a truth he may reject her for. She was a product of her mothers people as much as her fathers she reasoned. She wouldn't hide it.

" It's a dream catcher." He raised an eyebrow, listening intently, but his fingers continued their designs on her back. She carried on. " The design inside the hoop is supposed to resemble a spiders web. It catches bad dreams, as they don't know the way through, and when the sun hist it, they melt away."

Her mothers were all gorgeous, made of willow and fashioned with bright dyed feathers and carved wooden beads that chimed delicately if the wind was high.

" And good dreams?" His voice raked her skin, and she shivered closer. " Good dreams always know the way through. They weave their way through the centre of the web, down the feathers to the sleeper below." She waited, unsure of his reaction. Though it was not sorcery, merely an old tradition her mothers people passed on, she could understand how he may be suspicious.

" Perhaps if I wish it hard enough then, all the issues separating us could be bad dreams, and disappear in the dawn." It was a whispered longing, and it stunned her, that he be so unlike his father. That he would bare his soul so easily. So trustingly. " This will be the good dream, and in the morning I'll get up, go to training, and you will meet me at lunch, and we will eat together and hold hands and the world won't rear up in anger because of it."

It broke her heart.

" I know you can't stay Arthur." It hurt to admit, but she couldn't see him battle with the fact. " I know you would if it were possible."

" Do you Gwen?" He twisted his neck to stare at her directly, and the intensity of his gaze made her quiet. " I need to know that you do. I need to know that you understand. I won't take another. I won't marry for Camelot, or my father. It's you or it's no one. And sometimes...I see you, and I wonder if you have any idea how much it takes from me to be so close each day yet not be able to do this," he tucked a stray curl behind her ear, " or this," he dropped a kiss on her lips. " You have no cause for doubt Gwen. I know my heart. It's here." He caught her hand and placed it to the beating pulse beneath his fur lined skin. The solid beat flared under her palm. She swallowed.

" It's yours."

Now she was crying, and climbing across him to hold him in the tightest embrace she could muster.

" Let's call it a trade," she whispered into his throat, and he relaxed, letting his hand brush over her hair. Leaning to his mouth she kissed him, all her love in her kiss as she wished this could last.

/

" If anything happens, I'll stand by you Gwen." He dropped a kiss to her hair, his words deep and her involuntary shiver caught by the tender arc of his arm.

" Let's not borrow trouble Arthur. Let's just...enjoy this." She knew she would worry, that the wait would become an exquisite torture, as a secret image of a child with Arthur's eyes would erode all common sense in the face of repercussions such a happening would bring to play. She would bury the dreaming part of her she hid so well, appreciate how much more than she hoped she had already received. Tenderness for the man beside her swelled within.

Later, as the dark gave way to pre-dawn, and the bed was a pit of heat and skin and her inner thighs still sticky, she moved. Unwilling, but conscious of her self now, Gwen rose from the bed, wrapping the white coverlet about her shoulder and leaving him encased in the quilted throw. He reached for her, and she smiled, wondering if she looked horrific, her hair wild and skin sleep soft.

" You look wonderful."

" I didn't-" she had not spoken, keeping the vain thoughts to herself, and confusion made her frown.

" Its written all over your face. Everything is if you look hard enough. Why aren't you still next to me?" Plaintive, his query tinged with desire as he stared through half mast eyes.

" I just need to take a moment." His eyes travelled the length of her, barely covered by the white fabric, and she felt her chest hollow. Nothing had changed between them, but everything had.

" Would you like a hot drink?" It was unspoken, but tacked on to her offer, the truth that he should be leaving soon. Every second ticking by simply added to the possibility of his absence being noted. The thought of his warmth missing from her bed was already painful, and briefly, Gwen felt cold, wondering if she would be able to deal with the aftermath of this night.

" I'll make it." Swinging his legs from the bed, she blushed, since he was still naked, and he grinned at her expression. Pulling his trousers from the floor he tugged them up, eyeing her boldly. Desire flared to life in her abdomen once more. Tucking a stray tendril of hair behind her ear, she raised an eyebrow in his direction.

" Are you sure? Do you even know how to light the stove _sire_?" He caught her quickly, and she laughed softly, as his mouth found her neck, growling at her throat.

" A very talented young woman showed me how a while ago. She's the daughter of a blacksmith you know."

Contentment swept her along, and they were kissing again. It all felt right. No awkwardness, or fretting. No agonising over what they had done. Slipping from his grasp, she slid away, aware of his eyes watching her naked limbs as she found her wash pot and soap. Glancing back as she picked up a fresh wash cloth, she paused as his eyes darkened, lust still alive, undiminished.

Clearing his throat, he inclined his head, in that very _Arthur_ way he had.

" I'll just uhm-" He turned, and headed to her kitchen area. She smiled as he walked away, the smooth skin of his back, the dimples just above his hips, all so familiar yet thrilling. Concentrating, she began to wash, the cold water no hardship as her skin burnt with the memory of his touch. The soap dried, making her feel taut but clean, and something popped below her ribs as she spied the blood on the wet frothy cloth. Breathing deep, she carefully cleaned herself, conscious of Arthur so close as she performed the intimate act.

She heard him moving about, finding another cup to place next to her abandoned attempt earlier, goodness, what felt like a lifetime ago now. Lost in thought, she placed the cloth with her washing, and started, when Arthur's hands curled about her waist, his chest at her back, a wall of heat and fine hair and _him. _

" Tea's on." He nibbled at her throat, and she leant back, the white cover hiding nothing as he bent above her, his eyes on her naked form. On the springy dark curls between her legs, newly scented with lilac. His hands slid across her back, her curved rump, his lips scorching a line of kisses along her neck and shoulder.

" I want to taste you." Gruff, raw, his words at her ear made her squirm with need as starlight streaked up her spine. As if his confession weren't enough, his hand slid beneath her bottom, finding her curls from behind and she pushed back, letting her head fall to the side as his mouth widened, and his tongue lapped her with broad flat strokes. Then the reality of his words made her pause, panic widening her eyes.

" Arthur no!" He simply smiled into her eyes as she twisted her head up to his, stealing any other words with his mouth. Heat licked her limbs, her legs wobbly at the image his shocking words produced vividly in her minds eye. His fair head at her juncture, his tongue, pink and wet, sneaking though her curls to the delicate skin of her...A hot flash burst through her stomach, her aching muscles contracting once again. He hummed at her skin, his hands making easy work of setting her on fire.

" Guinevere _yes_."


	9. Chapter 9

TITLE: The Longest Day

Author: Shabbytiger

Show: Merlin

Pairing: Arthur and Gwen

Genre: Romance

Warnings: MA for adult content later...plus set after episode 3 x 10.

Disclaimer: Characters not mine, just borrowed for naught purposes :P

Multi Chapter and Complete.

He rubbed her with his thumb, and she was torn between mortification and abandon as he discovered just how easily he could make her a liquid hot mess.

" The tea." It was a weak argument, and his nip at her ear told her so as his finger slid into her welcoming slit slowly. Her hips bucked and he was pressing his erection into the small of her back, and a shocking yearning to bend over almost saw her lose all ability to think.

" The stove is still warming up." His thumb found her heart, and she let go of the white cover, reaching back to grip his firm thighs. His breath hissed at her throat and she smiled, grinding her bottom at him, following her bodies lead. His voice tickling her skin." Are you warmed up yet?"

Lord his teasing was too much, and she could only stand there, a tall puddle, as goosebumps broke out along her flesh. He was steering her then, back to the bed, pushing her down to sit on the edge of the ridiculously soft mattress he had gifted her with. She watched with black eyes as he fell to his knees, keeping his eyes on her as he lifted her backside with his hands, pulling her glistening folds toward his face. A tremor started then, and she couldn't tear her eyes from his, as his fair head dipped, and he touched her with his mouth. Soft at first, as she grew accustomed to the wild sensations firing through her veins. This was too much she thought, even as she let one hand loosen its death grip on the bed to stroke his hair. Too. Much.

His tongue between her legs split her open, probing, then teasing the folds at her opening. Tipping her head back, her hair falling to the bed, Gwen let out a strangled cry as he found entry, and forced his tongue along the wet tight channel, before pulling back and sweeping upwards towards the throbbing tip, aching to be kissed, rubbed, sucked. He keened, his pleasure in the act a revelation, as his eyes grew hotter and darker as his tongue re-enacted the journey his cock had already taken.

It was the most exquisite experience, and she couldn't contain the sounds that escaped her, begging, purring, sexual noises that only spurred him to greater depths as he worked his mouth on her. For a man considered selfish by some, he was an incredibly giving lover she thought, as he suckled at her aching clitoris, and then words got lost in the fog of pleasure his lips and tongue produced.

" Arthur I'm going to-" She felt this one coming, like a roll of thunder getting ever closer, the lightning in her blood sporadic with each new lick, each open mouthed kiss he performed, on her, in her, for her. " Oh I-" He held her firm to his mouth, his hands tight at her skin, and when she tried to move back he nibbled at her tender flesh, squeezing her closer onto his mouth. His eyes flashed up, and she felt ice and flames lick her with one stroke, as the thunder rolled, louder, ever louder in her ears. He wasn't letting go or letting up, his shoulder blades marble in the milky shade of the room, between her legs, the contrast of their skin touching her, as his pale body knelt between her toffee kissed legs. When his tongue finally withdrew from her slick heat, he fastened his lips to her tight nub and suckled, as he had at her nipples, and she shot from the bead as the lightning and thunder combined in perfect harmony. She felt herself flood, felt full and swollen and utterly replete.

Waves of pleasure swept her off, and she could hardly breathe as he laved her juices with one firm deep last lick. The waves became a current that dragged her from reality, skin hot and tight. Her sigh was a whisper, since all energy was drained from her bones.

" I think the stoves done too." Arthur stood, his eyes dazed and cheeks flushed, looking impossibly handsome, his half crooked smile curling about her heart. His teasing, as always undid her, this time even more so, as his expression of wonder made her feel like gold. He saw her that way, she thought dreamily, languid in the warmth washing up and down her limbs. He truly thought her precious.

" Arthur." He glanced back, as he stepped through the curtains to the kitchen and living area. Eyes bright, expression unguarded. Beautiful. Her throat was too full suddenly to speak, and she shook her head, but he seemed to understand, tipping his head, and leaving her alone for a few moments whilst she tried desperately to remember that this was not permanent. Her eyes sought the dream catcher as it twirled above the bed, and she smiled.

" You know I hope Merlin gets back soon. He excels at this cloak and dagger stuff. I half expect he has a chest of disguises hidden in his room somewhere." Arthur blinked, shocked at his own speech. Gwen regarded him thoughtfully, and he thought he saw a frown dimple her forehead as she watched the surprise cross his features.

" I- I don't know where that came from." The admission gained him a slow, unhurried, thorough kiss, and Arthur decided that sharing his unedited thoughts may be something he tried more often. Gwen was curled up in a chair at the table, the slip she had so enticingly removed back on, and the white dainty blanket about her shoulders enhancing the rich warm tone of her skin. She looked like a cat. A beautiful, tricky, sleek cat.

" He'll be back soon enough." Something in her thoughtful voice made him hesitate, and he wanted to ask what she was thinking, but although Merlin was a loyal friend whose absence was tougher than Arthur would ever confess to him, he didn't want to talk about him now. Not when he had to leave. Sipping her tea, Gwen smiled radiantly at him.

" You make a nice cup of tea Arthur." Now he was a mess of longing again as he caught the suggestive edge of her compliment, and he rolled his shoulders, the ache in his groin a testament to her power over him. He shot her a grin, baring his teeth.

" Why thank you Guinevere." She regarded him with warm amber eyes, her curls lit silver in the dawn light pouring through her window. Time to leave. " Perhaps I'll be able to make you tea again. Soon."

It was a gamble, but one he wouldn't dream of shying away from. Did she want this to recur? Or was this a one time gift, to tighten the bond he could not imagine ever faltering between them? She uncurled her legs, and his stomach flipped as her toes wiggled as they hit the cold tile. Toes. He really needed to get intimate with those delicate suckable toes. She rose from her seat, and placed her cup on the table. Now he was dressed, and the castle no doubt stirring in some corners, the unmistakable need to return to his own chambers-it would never be his home now, not in his heart-was ever more urgent. But he couldn't make his boots move to the door.

" Here." Gwen had fetched a garment from the chest she kept her sewing kit in, and his surprise fluttered behind his ribs. The blue cloak he had worn whilst being Sir William lay in her hands, and she shrugged at the unspoken question in his eyes.

" Merlin asked me to fix the hem, you tore it, on one of your adventures he said." Arthur had no idea whether he had or not, and accepted the rich fabric quietly.

" Right." He really had to go. He took his time pulling it on, tying the fastening at his throat. She looked so vulnerable, watching him prepare to leave. He was transported to the first time he had kissed her, here in this room, wearing this cloak. Somehow it mattered, that he was wearing it once more. " Thank you Guinevere."

" What for?" She met his gaze, surprise and worry clouding her eyes. She was so small, compared to him. So strong and sure. No regrets in her manner, no undue angst about what may result from their passion. His voice broke a little.

" For mending my cloak."_ For mending me, before I knew I needed mending._

" You are more than welcome Arthur." A secret smile lit her features, and he was lost again. " I quite like mending your clothes. Merlin always brings them to me. You really should take care of them better-"

He silenced her with a kiss, the softest touch of lips, holding them at hers, drinking her in. when he pulled away, her lips followed his across the space between them, and he ached inside. Sir William could have stayed. Arthur Pendragon could not.

" I have to go."

" Of-course." Concern made her solemn. " Will you manage it do you think? Getting back undetected?"

Considering who would bear the consequence should this rendezvous be discovered, her worry struck something fierce in him.

" I'll be careful."

" Good." He could almost hear the jumble of words she held back as she bit her lip, the lower lip he has sucked and licked and kissed till his heart wanted to burst from his chest in the twilight. He waited, knowing her habit of nervous chatter well. Once more his Gwen surprised him, as she smoothed a warm palm to his cheek.

" You have a key now." She tucked it into his hand as she spoke. " So you had better perfect your talent at becoming invisible."

He groaned, and kissed her palm. Now he reached the door and turned back, seeing her in her nightwear, hair loose, eyes soft.

" Today is going to be the longest day in the history of time."

Her giggle carried him from her door, and he pulled the hood of his cloak up, wary of early risers as he traversed the lower town. A small child with a bed pan scurried past to a house further along the road, pausing to loom up at him, blue eyes wide as he stared into Arthur's face. Frozen, Arthur raised a finger to his lips, and after an excruciating moment, the child nodded, before running along to get home.

A child with Gwen's eyes and his charm, Arthur mused, his heart swelling, as he watched the boy open his own front door, and offer him a small awestruck wave, would be no burden. No burden at all.

End

**This story is continued with The Empty House :)**


End file.
